


That's What Friends Are For

by dyingpoet



Category: Rebel Without a Cause (1955)
Genre: Anxiety, Bullying, Male Friendship, So like i ship them but this isnt about that fam, homophobia bc its the 50s yall its there, they help each other out its nice aff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 14:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Plato and Jim stick up for each other





	That's What Friends Are For

**Author's Note:**

> For frnk bc they left a lovely comment as well as few other people that requested something like this, hope you guys enjoy!

"He's such a phony, full of himself, y'know?"

A chorus of agreements filled the back of Plato's fourth period study hall, causing him to grip his pencil tighter, knuckles white. The last half hour he had been forced to listen to Buzz and the rest of his gang talk shit about Jim, who hadn't even tried anything with them after the race at the bluff. At first he thought Judy might stick up for him, she and Jim seemed to connect a bit, but she didn't, and Plato could feel the anger rising in his throat.

Nobody else around him cared, they didn't know Jim so he wasn't surprised, but he felt like if he didn't do something soon he'd break his pencil in half. He got like this a lot, emotional, over emotional actually, it was like everything surged to the surface at once and he couldn’t stop it.

Taking a deep breath, He kept taking his notes, focusing on the Civil War instead of the assholes trash talking his Jim behind him. Sure his handwriting was jagged and he practically bore a hole in the page with how hard he was pressing down, but he kept himself in check, releasing a breath when the bell rang.

Gathering his things, he stood up and felt a shoulder collide harshly with his own, sending him stumbling into his desk.

"Watch it," Buzz snarled, wrapping an arm around Judy as the rest of his gang followed out.

"He's too busy thinking about fucking Jim to pay attention Buzz," one of them quipped, getting a laugh from the rest of the group, disgustingly including Judy.

"At least he's not all talk, beat you at the bluff," Plato shot back.

The rest of the gang smirked or let out ‘ohs’, egging on Buzz, rather successfully, as his expression turned angry in seconds, taking a step forward and grabbing Plato's collar harshly, "You little-"

"What's going on here?" a voice called from the front, their teacher.

Letting him go, Buzz put on a tight smile and turned to face the front, the rest of his gang hurrying toward the door, "Nothing Mrs. Palemino." He started for the door, turning his head back and mouthing 'you're dead' back at Plato, who'd gone pale. He walked out then, leaving Plato to grab his bag and rush out, taking a deep breath and walking toward his locker.

Sticking up for Jim had felt good, great really, he almost never could speak up like that. To be fair, he never really had anyone to speak up for before Jim, but he took it as a win.

Buzz would probably kick his ass after school, the thought of which was causing his hands to shake, but if he hurried after the final bell he might be able to make it to the buses and get a seat in the front before Buss found him.

He had lunch next, and he knew for sure that Buzz didn’t, so he took his time at his locker, walking to the cafeteria while planning the fastest way from eighth period to his bus when he ran right into Jim.

“Where’s the fire kid?” Jim asked lightly. Plato put his hands behind his back and smiled nervously, Jim always got worried whenever his hands shook. Usually he would have found it endearing but he really didn’t want to deal with it right now

“Ha, yeah.”

He tried to walk past Jim but felt a hand gently push him back, “What’s wrong? You seem out of it.”

Jim looked genuinely concerned which made lying feel even worse, but he really didn’t want Jim to have to worry about him so much, it wasn’t fair.

“Tired s’all.”

If Jim tried to respond he couldn’t tell once he started walking, pulling at Jim’s sleeve and starting for the cafeteria. Rambling on about a book he’d been reading last night kept any more questions from coming his way, and they had lunch with no more mention of the issue.

* * *

 

Keeping his head down after lunch was easier than he would have thought. The last two periods there were only one or two of Buzz’s gang in his class, so he sat as far from them as possible and did his work.

He’d been through this before, less often now that Jim was here, but he was used to it. For the first two years of high school he’d had a target on his back, he transferred in from being homeschooled and didn’t know anybody. That combined with being quiet and small got him in a lot of trouble, with Buzz’s gang in particular, and falling back into the routine of avoidance was easier than he thought it would be.

Leaning back in his seat, he kept his eyes on the clock, shooting up when the bell rang and getting out of the room before it stopped.

He’d made sure that he wouldn’t have to stop at his locker and kept his eyes glued to the floor, heading for one of the back doors that led to the buses. He could feel the blood rushing through his body, heart beating faster as he counted the linoleum tiles, clearing two with each step and made progress towards the door.

He flicked his eyes up, catching sight of the door and smiling to himself. He reached for the handle and before he made contact felt a hand grab the back of his collar, another moving over his mouth as his feet skidded backward on the floor.

Instinctively he swung out, kicking his feet and trying to hit someone, make contact for enough time to knock someone down, hurt someone, get _away._

Curses flew from someone’s mouth when he got a hit, hands grabbing his own and holding them down, holding _him_ down now and he couldn’t breathe or get away and a door was shutting now, locking him in.

“Motherfucker,” Buzz snarled, now in front of him while someone held him from behind. They were in an old science room, shut down after some kid spilled acid and ruined the floor tiles, there was only one door and two others stood in front of it.

He screwed his eyes shut as a fist collided with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him as he struggled to free his arms from the grip holding them back. Gasping for breath, pain shot through his jaw and nose shortly after, hearing a crack as blood began to flow down his shirt.

“Get ‘em Buzz!”

“Kick his ass!”

Encouragements continued as he fell to the ground, moving to cover his head while his ribs were kicked, once, twice, three times, leaving him prone on his back, blood from his nose staining his clothes and the floor.

Ringing filled his ears and he thought he could hear Buzz saying something to him but it was fuzzy and incoherent, reaching his brain sluggishly. Pain radiated through his face, his nose might be broken, and he could feel nausea overtake him while his stomach turned and twisted, bruised and aching.

He tried to push himself up, elbows shaking underneath him as he tried, and opened his eyes just in time to see Buzz’s foot come down on his chest. His back roughly hit the floor, ribs screaming as the pressure increased.

“Fuckin’ fag, keep your goddamn mouth shut next time,” Buzz said, smirking down at him while the others crowded behind him, clapping his back in congratulation.

Letting his head hit the floor, Plato groaned, shutting his eyes and resigning to the pain that was working its way through his chest to his entire body.

If his eyes had been open though, he might have seen the door behind all of them open, seen a figure walk over with clenched fists. All he knew was someone stumbled over him, letting out a yell and a curse.

One of his eyes had started to swell but he could see the scene play out above him.

Jim stood nose to nose with Buzz, entire body tense as he said something, quiet enough that Plato and his still ringing ears couldn’t pick it up. One of the guys made to shove Jim, stopped by a look from Buzz, who said something, looked down at Plato, and stalked off, shouldering past Jim and followed by the rest of the guys.

As soon as the door shut Jim’s shoulders slacked, turning on his heel and kneeling next to Plato, who started to get up.

“Than-”

“What the hell was that about?” Jim asked, picking Plato up from under his arms and leaning him against a desk.

“I said something in study hall, pissed em’ off, it’s my fault really, should’ve known better.”

His nosebleed had slowed, though his shirt and pretty much everything he was wearing was ruined, covered in bloodstains that quickly began to dry, sticking to his skin clammily. He raised an arm to his face, wiping some of the blood away from his mouth with his sleeve, watching as Jim surveyed the rest of the damage.

“That’s bullshit Plato, you know it, they’re assholes,” he said, running the back of his hand over Plato’s jaw, moving back when he flinched, “That’s already bruising, and I don’t think your nose is broken, just bruised too.”

Plato nodded, “I’ll clean it up when I get home, I probably need to tape my ribs too.”

The casual, almost practiced not in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and taking his jacket off he didn’t notice Jim staring at him, tilting his head a bit as the realization dawned on him. “How long’s this been goin’ on?” he asked, taking Plato’s jacket and looking at him expectantly.

Plato was a bit taken back by the question, nobody had asked him that before, his mother used to just assume he was getting into fights every so often, and Hattie never asked either. “Don’t worry about it, really.”

Like earlier in the day, he started walking forward only to find himself pushed back, significantly lighter this time though, “Not what I asked.”

Plato bit his lip, there was really no use lying at this point, Jim knew, he didn’t quite know _how_ he knew, but he did. Having to talk about it felt wrong though, it wasn’t Jim’s problem, he didn’t need to put that on him. Sighing, he mumbled out an answer quietly, shifting his feet and keeping his eyes down.

Jim softly grabbed his chin, raising his head so that he was looking right at Plato, “What?”

“‘Bout two years,” Plato said, immediately regretting it when anger sparked in Jim’s eyes, his hands dropped and balled into fists.

“Fuckers,” he cursed under his breath, starting to pace but thinking the better of it , taking a deep breath and turning to Plato, “It’s not gonna happen anymore, you hear?”

Plato nodded, starting for the door again, this time with Jim falling into step beside him. “Can you drop me off? I missed my bus,” he said sheepishly.

An arm draped over his shoulders, “Like that? No way, you can come back to my place and get cleaned up, nobody should be home, you’ll be fine.”

Plato smiled, looking up at Jim, “Thanks.

“No problem, that’s what friends are for.”

**Author's Note:**

> That was really fun to write, leave prompts in the comments if you have anything you want to see!! Kudos are always appreciated!


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